Toska
by Miah-Chan
Summary: There's no true weight to emotion anymore; rather, an emptiness is spreading throughout his chest and he's not sure now if he can, or even wants, to stop it. TW: Depression focus


_**TW : Depression focus**_

Ofc the first IwaOi fic I post is angsty... (I promise I have fluffy WIPs I'll eventually post! ^^; )  
Well, this was cathartic to write although I do feel bad for making Iwa-chan suffer. My "Oikawa" is across the country so I'm coping as best I know how without her. :'3

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own "Haikyuu!" or any affiliated characters.

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 _toska_ : (n.) Russian–roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness; "at its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause…a dull ache of the soul"

.

Everything is just so _heavy_ these days.

He can feel the numbness creeping in–knows it has been for weeks, months–but there's no energy left in him to try to stop it. Everything is a muted version of its former self; happiness, irritation, even sadness. He can feel them, particularly within the moment, but only as if from a distance. There's no true weight to emotion anymore; rather, an emptiness is spreading throughout his chest and he's not sure now if he can, or even wants, to stop it.

It's not the first time but Hajime has always been good at ignoring it. It was easier when he was young; the melancholy would make his skin itch with restlessness so he'd simply run to Tooru's and drag him out to play. Tooru had always been good at sensing his friend's waning mood too–always the observant one–so he never allowed Hajime to play couch-potato for long.

It has always been a presence in his life although he doesn't like to admit it. High School made it more difficult to brush off; the day he stood on the court and realized he was going through the motions rather than truly enjoying himself he broke for the first time. Tooru found him curled into himself in a corner of the club room after the team had gone home, clutching a volleyball to his chest as he stared at it without seeing.

Now it's caused him to miss volleyball practice for the first time since they began University. Hajime isn't able to bring himself to even send his best friend a text to let him know– _burdensome_ , a dark corner of his mind had leered when he'd taken his phone out of his pocket–so he'd simply walked home to their shared apartment without a word to anyone.

He's lying face down on his bed when Tooru appears, slipping silently into his room without so much as a knock. Normally Hajime would have scolded him for "invasion of privacy" or tossed a nearby object at him; now, he barely registers his presence until he feels the side of his bed dip beneath Tooru's weight. A hand settles between his shoulder-blades, physical pressure meant to ground him as much as get his attention. He angles his head so Tooru will know he's aware, silent. It's too much effort to talk today.

He's so _tired_.

"Iwa-chan," Tooru calls softly, running his hand up and down Hajime's spine. "What do you need?"

Hajime lifts his shoulders in some semblance of a shrug–it's all he can muster because he doesn't _know_. He doesn't know.

"Okay," Tooru pats his back before standing and suddenly Hajime's heart is racing because _where is he going, don't leave_ –

"Shh, shhh. I'm just going to grab some things for you, okay? I'm not going anywhere." Tooru assures him, briefly running his fingers through Hajime's hair. He relaxes against the mattress, expelling a soft breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Gripping a pillow between his shaky hands, Hajime nods–Tooru deserves that much, at least, he shouldn't be any more of a burden than he's already being–and tries to focus on the sounds of Tooru moving around the house.

It's difficult. He's been zoning out more often, enough to have his professors notice and sometimes call him out on it. Even a classmate had mentioned it in passing–"Iwaizumi-san, you okay? You've been staring at that page for over five minutes." (five minutes? He barely remembered opening the book at all, much less attempting to _read_ it)–and Tooru has been doing everything he can to help Hajime laugh, keep a smile on his face, _feel_.

Tooru has always been good about that; he not only stands by Hajime but silently helps carry the weight that made itself at home on Hajime's shoulders. They never talk about it outright–many of the most important things between them require no spoken communication–but Tooru has never made Hajime doubt that his best friend is there for him whenever he might need him.

(People always assume it's Hajime who takes care of Tooru, and while that is often true, Tooru has absolutely returned the sentiment throughout their lives.)

Right, Tooru. He's returned to Hajime's room with a soft fleece blanket that he spreads over Hajime's back and what sounds like a glass of something–probably water, he should stay hydrated–that he sets on the bedside table for whenever Hajime wants it. The bed dips again as Tooru sits beside him.

"Scoot over some, I'm staying." He says, pushing gently against his friend's side. Hajime doesn't move for a moment–even shifting a few inches requires effort and energy he doesn't seem to have–but eventually manages to move enough for Tooru to lay beside him.

He's immediately wrapped in a warm embrace, Tooru manhandling him onto his side first so that he can pull Hajime's back against his chest, wrapping a snug arm around the darker-haired boy's waist. He slides his other arm beneath Hajime's pillow and burrows in as close as he can, squeezing the exhausted boy reassuringly. Hajime sighs and relaxes back against his chest, dragging one hand away from the mattress to tangle his fingers with Tooru's. His limbs feel like lead but he manages, somehow; Tooru squeezes his hand as he nuzzles the back of his neck. Hajime can feel his breath ghosting over his skin as Tooru prepares to speak (finally, _finally_ he can feel something–at least the numbness hasn't seeped into this too).

"I'm here," Tooru whispers against his nape. "I'm here Hajime; you're not alone."

His throat burns suddenly and he knows it's from tears. They're scorching behind his eyelids, burning away the numbness that's settled in and crumbling the foundation to the dam blocking the sadness he's buried beneath. A sadness he hates because it's _unfounded_ , there's no real reason for it–what does he have to be sad about? what right does he have to feel this way when so many others suffer far worse?–but he just can't get rid of it. It comes back, it always comes back, creeping in the way termites settle, rotting him from the inside out until he buckles from the pressure when he least expects it.

A sob makes his chest heave and he clamps his free hand over his mouth, screwing his eyes shut tighter. He doesn't want Tooru to see this part of him, the part that's small and weak and falling apart–

"It's okay, Hajime," Tooru says softly, rubbing circles against the broken boy's knuckles with his thumb. "Trust me. I've got you. I'm here, I've got you."

 _It's okay to break. I'll help you put yourself back together, as many times as you need._

Hajime whimpers, " _Tooru_ ", and the dam breaks.

He doesn't know how long he sobs but Tooru holds him through it, keeping his jagged edges together when Hajime can't, a steady stream of reassurances whispered against his skin while Hajime gasps his name in a mantra.

He's real, Tooru's _real_ , even when nothing else seems like it is.

As his cries turn to stuttering hiccups, Hajime knows this isn't the end. This doesn't magically 'fix' it, doesn't suddenly cure him of the sadness that feels ingrained in his bones; it won't dissipate the numbness or ground him so that he never again loses portions of time.

But–

"I've got you," Tooru promises him and Hajime believes him. It's hard to put faith in much of anything anymore but Tooru–Hajime knows he can believe in him.

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Thanks for reading! Take care of yourselves, lovelies. :)

Please feel free to talk with me (whether it be about OTPs or depression/anxiety, anything) on **my Tumblr: sawamura-daichis-thighs** (it's the easiest place to reach me these days).

~Miah-Chan


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